December 08, 2006

December 10th is Human Right's Day. We can't do much, but there are some things we can do.People around the world will be join together to denounce the use of rape and sexual violence as a weapon of war in Darfur and to show solidarity with the women and girls of Darfur.

I'm not writing about how sick Jenna has been, and how it's down to the wire as to whether or not she'll have her T&A (tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy) on Tuesday, how the first antibiotic didn't work, and how this one is working, but her asthma's kicked up, and it's been nebulizer treatments and pills, and trying to get her to school because if you miss 15 days (we're just about there--whoopie!) they have this great rule where they send social services to your house to chat you up, I guess to make sure you're not holding your kid hostage in the closet--OH WAIT NO, they miss all of those cases because they're checking up on the asthmatic strep-infected kids who really need schools to give a crap about the air quality in the buildings and maybe not put them in pre-flooded basements with no windows so they have a fighting chance.

I'm not writing about how she's gotten all As in spite of this health stuff, and how that makes me cry, and how weak I feel when she can't do the things she likes to do.

I'm not writing about the trips to Walgreens and another $500 in maintenance medicines this month, and I should write about the three baskets she made in her game last Saturday even though she had to sit out every 20 minutes for a toke on her puffer waiting to stop coughing.

I'm not writing about how behind I am at blogging about business and communications over at BlogHer.

I'm not writing about Jenna waking up today vomiting--the latest virus I'm assuming for now--and holding the throw-up bowl. I'm not writing about the 4:00 appointment I have today for her chest x-ray to be sure there's no pneumonia or else surgery's off.

I'm not writing how short it makes me as a mother, all of this sickness, and how useless I feel at my inability to fix anything, and how yelling at her out of frustration makes me hate myself.

I'm not writing about the $624 insurance premium we have to come up with each month--and how that only covers six sick visits (no well visits) each year, which Jenna breezed through in the first half of last year, and how we're into the $2,000 deductible now, with everything out of pocket until we give them $2,000 (plus the $624/month premium), and then, best of all, we get to pay 30 percent of all the other costs since BCBS oh-so-generously covers 70 percent.

I'm not writing about wondering how much the chest x-ray today will cost, and I'm trying not to even think about money because people with sick loved ones shouldn't have to think about money over care, so I don't think it and I don't write it.

I'm not writing about all of this because I make part of my living in this space now, and that means I have to be at the top of my game.

How can she be at the top of her game with a sick kid--that is how Business thinks and business is right. Business is right that I am not at the top of my game--I don't have 17 hours to work every day, only 11. I don't have time to blog and do the work, I only have time to work. I don't have time for community, only for strategy.

I have no doubt I can help you achieve your goals even with a sick kid and a coughing fit of my own. But don't expect me to have a personality, or a deadline might slip. The blogging world isn't about me or you anymore--at least not for tech sharpshooters, nomads and writers. It's about looking sharp and being sharp and talking sharp and thinking sharp. It's about showing what you've got and about NOT stopping showing it.

Out here, among the blogs, where there are no throw-up bowls to hold, I'm not feeling sharp. In fact, I'm feeling very, very dull.

I enjoy twittering. I really do. I think the people I follow are swell. I really do. I'm already sick of hearing my own mediocrity, though. Trying to make meaning of life in snippets when so many are living non-fiction horror stories every instant of every day. How do we capture more than the surface in a ubiquitous IM setting where dozens of lines of chatter are crossing continuously. And if we don't try to capture more, are we cheapening how we relate to each other? I dunno. Just thinking. Of other twitters. Outside of the Valley.

deciding whether to bounce a check for groceries or medicines.

pawning grandmother's jewelry

feeding the kids Motrin for breakfast so their fever won't show up at daycare until I get off work.